


The Illusory Truth Effect

by Guilty_Pleasures69



Series: Jaskier, The Friendly Neighborhood Incubus [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Jaskier | Dandelion, Incubus Jaskier | Dandelion, Kaer Morhen, Knotting, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Piercings, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guilty_Pleasures69/pseuds/Guilty_Pleasures69
Summary: Do you know any other incubi or succubi we can talk to?”“None that I can get into contact with quickly, I have a few friends but it would take weeks to find them, if not more.”“We’ll go to Kaer Morhen then.”“The haunted witcher castle on the really big witcher mountain that is filled with witchers?” Jaskier whined.“It’s not haunted or filled with witchers,” Geralt scoffed. “I thought you liked witchers?”His songbird kissed his jaw, “I just likeyou.” He seemed to think for a moment, “And your copious amounts of witcher come.”Geralt rolled his eyes, “The library at Kaer Morhen has more bestiary references than anywhere on the continent. If whatever is going on with you is written in a book, we’ll find it there.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Jaskier, The Friendly Neighborhood Incubus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120100
Comments: 95
Kudos: 477
Collections: The Witcher - Various Alternate Universes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter isn't explicit but the next one will be!

Jaskier was by no means old, at least to his kind, and he’d been starved nearly to death for the last twenty years. Those two decades make up over half his life! And for the part of his life he wasn’t starving, he was still in the care of his sire. 

So, even though he was well fed then, he was far too young to have mastered his persuasion abilities. That means he had yet to gain control over his ...magnetism. 

_ Magnetism _ , Jaskier thought, was a very apt and flattering name for his mystical incubus mind-bending stuff.

Until he was being regularly fed by Geralt and even had a surplus of spend just sloshing around in him, he really hadn’t used his magnetism at all. He knew he was getting healthier every day and had already had some milestones met again.

He had his healthy (and quite flattering) curves turn his body into a vast expanse of hills and valleys after several weeks. Jaskier was quite delighted that that was his first change, it made him feel sexier and convinced Geralt he wasn’t made of glass.

Within some weeks after his body was filled out he began self-lubricating again. That happened gradually and released a potent scent, making it impossible for the incubus the miss. His slick was also a welcome development, it made coupling more comfortable and really fucked Geralt up in the best ways. 

For months, that was it.

Jaskier forgot there was even anything else he should have been watching out for. 

…

“Get us a room.” Geralt nodded to the inn as he took care of Roach.

Jaskier grabbed his lute and headed to do as he was asked, “I will have our room ready for you with a bath and a meal! Don’t take too long out here!”

The inn was busier than the bard had suspected it would be and Jaskier had to weave around patrons to get to the barkeep. Many people stood as if dumb rather than make room for the incubus to get by and some seemed to even lean in closer to him as he passed them.

Jaskier brushed it off as small-town folk being nosey. He was  _ quite _ a sight, after all.

“Hello there, Darling,” The bard got the barkeep’s attention, “I’d like one room with a bath and two hot meals, please.”

The lady behind the counter giggled with a blush, “It’s not often someone as handsome as you travels through here, how long are you staying?”

“I imagine such flawlessness is rare, get a good gander!” Jaskier waved his arms in a wide arc around himself, “I’m not sure how long we’ll be staying. Would you mind keeping a tab open for us, Darling?”

“Of course, here’s your key.” The barmaid leaned  _ far  _ further than necessary over the counter, displaying her ample bosom, “I’ll have a tub sent to your room along with your meals. We’ve potato stew today. Will that suit you?”

“Yes, the stew would be delightful. Thank you.” Jaskier was led to a door, presumably his room. 

The lady bit her lip and stepped closer to the incubus, “If you’d like company tonight, I’d be honored to grace your bed.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up and he stepped away from the barmaid, “What a… generous offer! I’m… I’m all set! Thank you for ...that and I’ll be settling in now! Bu-bye!”

He closed the door in her face.

Well. He certainly could have been a bit more ...suave. Let her down easier. Being dismissed by the great Jaskier was hard without getting a door slammed in one’s face, he was sure. 

The bard shrugged. 

_ Everyone was acting strange.  _

Jaskier startled as there was a knock on the door. Before he could answer there were more instant raps. 

“Yes?” He opened the door with a frown.

Two women -including the barmaid- and three men were crowded in front of his room with food and buckets of water. They all leaned in as the bard addressed them and smiled dazzling at him.

“I got your food!”

“I brought you a plate too!”

“You have gorgeous eyes!”

“Here’s your water!”

“Would you like help in the bath?”

“Such fair skin! I’d love to touch you!”

“I even threw in a free loaf of bread!”

“Don’t worry about paying for the room!”

“Would you like company?”

“I’d love to wash you-”

“SHUT UP!” Jaskier snapped as he failed to get a more polite word in edgewise. “I need NO company or help of any kind beyond having the tub filled! I’ll take the food, thank you for your ... _ rambunctious kindness _ .”

The incubus took the food from the barmaid and let the other four people dump their buckets of water into the tub on the far side of the room. All the while they blabbered about how handsome Jaskier was, how they want to help him, how they would love to ...well. 

Fuck him, basically. 

For the first time in his life, the incubus was surrounded by lovely men and women alike and felt VERY uncomfortable. He avoided their touches and denied their services all while wondering what the hell was going on.

“GET OUT.” Geralt’s deep, raspy, and intimidating voice reverberated through the room. 

That was his purposely intimidating voice, and like every other time he used it, everyone in the room fled. Though, some still glanced longingly at the incubus as they went.

“Geralt! Perfect timing, Gods, I don’t know how much longer I could have defended against those thirsty humans!” Jaskier dramatically leaned against the wall and fanned himself.

He imagined that even with the theatrics, the witcher would be able to smell his unease. 

“What happened?” Geralt shut the door and locked it. “They all stank of lust.”

Jaskier frowned, “I don’t know. People have been  _ friendly _ since I got here, but they just kept getting more and more forward with their advances.”

“That’s strange. Did they make any assumptions about what you are?”

“No.” Jaskier played with his fingers nervously, “I didn’t make the slightest mention and they didn’t say anything of the sort.”

“Come here.” Geralt held one arm up, making space under it for the incubus. Jaskier scurried over and tucked his lithe frame into the witcher’s side.

Jaskier liked attention. He liked to be admired. But whatever was up with those humans was _ different _ . It made the bard shiver and wonder all kinds of unfavorable what-ifs. As an incubus, he was stronger and faster than a human, but faced with an inn full of them he wasn’t sure how he would fair.

“Relax, Songbird.” Geralt nosed into his brown waves, “I have you.”

“What are you hunting here?” Jaskier asked into the witcher’s chest as he relaxed little by little. “Could it have something to do with that?”

Geralt shook his head, “Ghouls. Not something that would affect people like that.”

“Maybe it's nothing?” The bard laughed nervously, “It’s a small village and I am quite breathtaking if I do say so myself!”

The witcher hummed, not sounding very convinced, “I got our stuff. Let’s eat.”

Jaskier sat at the little square table against the front wall of the room, beside the door. He took the rickety chair furthest from the door. Unease still curled in his chest, even as Geralt sat with him.

The incubus twirled his fork through his food without eating it, as always. It was a habit he picked up to deter people from thinking he was different. It had always been effective, but even more so with a witcher around to clear both their plates. 

No one looked twice at him anymore unless he wanted them to. Though, that probably had more to do with the burly witcher that stood menacingly at his side more often than not. 

Geralt ate in silence.

Jaskier normally chatted up a storm while the witcher hummed and nodded, but the bard couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know why he was so shaken up by a few pushy humans.

“Songbird,” Geralt murmured. “Relax. I can smell your anxiety.”

“I can’t!” Jaskier whined with an irritated huff, “It was just some humans acting strange. I don’t know why it's making me so keyed up.”

“Do you want to leave? We can camp in the woods beyond the stable.”

“Well ...I want a bath.” The incubus frowned, “I want to sleep in a bed too. I just don’t feel right.”

Geralt stood and headed to the tub, with one flick of his wrist and odd finger thing the water was steaming.

Igni was truly magnificent. 

“Come on.” 

The witcher began stripping out of his clothes and Jaskier was quick to follow. Soon, the incubus was reclined back against Geralt’s chest even though they had to bend their knees to accommodate the shorter than ideal tub. The bard paid little mind to the sloshing of the water and slight movements of the witcher, wanting only to relax. 

Jaskier moaned lowly as big, calloused hands began rubbing soap into his body. “You spoil me.”

Geralt hummed, “I rather like the scent of you calm, relaxed, and slightly aroused.” Soapy hands slipped below the water and the incubus instinctively spread his legs. “Your anxiety made me want to separate those humans’ heads from their shoulders.”

Jaskier’s heart fluttered as the witcher intimately washed him while growling huskily in his ear. He melted further into the attention and let Geralt wet his hair. This was a delightful bath thus far, and the incubus was surprised his cock didn’t stir.

He thought that perhaps the earlier events wore him out enough that any carnal inclinations were smothered for the night. The incubus didn’t mind the thought and just let himself be moved and manipulated as his witcher saw fit.

“I like this,” Jaskier whispered. “You treat me as though I’m something precious and worthy of such luxurious attention.”

“You are.”

“Geralt!” The bard cooed, “Wisper more sweet nothings and adorations in my ear, it's been so long since anyone other than myself has sung my praise!”

“Would you like that?”

“Like what? Having my praise sung?”

“Yes.”

“Why yes, Witcher, what would you say about me, I wonder?”

Geralt was silent for a moment and Jaskier thought the man was going to ignore him. “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“They’re beautiful.”

Jaskier giggled happily with a blush rising in his cheeks, “Like gleaming sapphires?”

“... They’re blue. And. Nice.” The bard could practically hear the witcher’s brows furrow and his head tilt.

There were many ways he could make fun of Geralt’s  _ astounding  _ word choice but Jaskier found the words warmed his chest and lifted his spirits.

“Blue and nice.” The incubus quoted. “Lovely, what else?”

“These.” Geralt flicked the gold hoop in one of his ears.

“Just those ones?” Jaskier teased.

“These are also worth mentioning.” The witcher growled and paid gentle attention to the matching barbells adjoining his nipples and the little sun hanging from his navel. “But this one is my favorite.” 

Jaskier’s hips jumped and his breath caught as Geralt rubbed pointed circles over the barbell that sent muted pleasure  ricocheting through his groin.

“I’ve also noticed that you’re quite taken by that particular piece of jewelry.” The incubus breathed deeply, not wanting things to dissolve into sex. For some reason, even as arousal grew in his belly, Jaskier didn’t want that kind of intimacy at the moment.

Geralt, ever attentive, moved on. “Your smile, too. Your smile is ...akin to sunshine.”

“Geralt!” The bard gasped dramatically, “That was a metaphor! I’ve never been so proud!”

The witcher huffed and stood, sweeping Jaskier up with him. “That’s enough poetry, Songbird. Bed now."

...

Geralt didn’t sleep. 

Not that he needed to, he had meditated the day before.

He held Jaskier close as the bard cuddled into his side and slept. Finally, all his songbird’s tension and nervousness had given way in favor of a fitful night in a bad after several days camping. 

The witcher glanced over at the door, remembering the anxiety that had been wafting off Jaskier some hours ago. It had been strange. The bard was usually very good with people and when he wasn’t the humans were more often angry than anything else. 

This time they were horny, extremely so for some reason. Geralt couldn’t figure out why some horny humans had freaked an incubus out so much or why the humans were so wound up. 

Listening to the heartbeats of the inn’s other patrons left Geralt feeling even more uneasy. No one was asleep. Their hearts were thundering loudly.  _ All of them. _

And that was NOT normal. Certainly not when at this hour most people would have retired to their rooms, passed out drunk, or left the establishment entirely. Yet no one had left and no one even had a steady heartbeat. 

The witcher had no idea what was going on. It seemed to start with Jaskier but Geralt couldn't fathom anything the bard could have done to cause all that. His incubus smelled the same so there was no change in pheromone levels that could explain rabid sex driven humans. Only humans too. Geralt hadn’t been affected.

While Jaskier’s lust was potent and could encourage and heighten arousal in humans and mutants alike, the bard hadn’t smelled particularly lusty. Not before he went into the inn nor in their room. Hell, even while they touched and flirted in the tub, Jaskier wasn’t horny.

Perhaps that is another symptom of whatever ails them. Geralt can’t think of a time the witcher and incubus had bathed together that didn’t result in orgasms.

Whatever was going on, Geralt hoped they could leave it in this barely populated village and move on from it come the morning. The witcher would leave at dawn, kill the ghouls, and get his payment before Jaskier even woke up. Then, they would saddle up Roach and leave. 

So, Geralt held his songbird for a few more hours, just until the sun peeked into the window and then he silently rose from the bed. He dressed in his armor, checked his blades, rifled through his bags for a few potions (Jaskier would give him Hell if the bard found out he left without at least some Swallow and Kiss), and made for the door.

The wall of unbridled lust he was hit with when he opened the door was ...surprising. It didn’t take much investigation to discover the orgy the inn’s patrons were all partaking in. Geralt had seen many strange sex practices among humans. He’d even participated in several of them. But a bar full of strangers getting naked and having sex out in the open? 

_ There’s a first for everything _ , the witcher thought.

He made sure the door to his and Jaskier’s room was locked and left. He was even more invested in getting out of this damned village as soon as possible. 

Fucking humans and their fucking orgies.

The witcher crept through the tiny village toward the forest that loomed behind it. The skirt of the woods was young and thus less dangerous, but Geralt had seen the heart of too many woodlands to not be cautious. 

There was once a Leshen in this forest.

Geralt distinctly remembered not knowing if he was the prey or the predator when he hunted it. That had been decades ago and the witcher was still wary of those woods. 

Once Geralt made it to the woods he drew his silver sword and focused his mind on the hunt. He could smell the rotten flesh of the ghouls already. With a deep breath, he deduced that there were eight foes and the closest was just through the brush to his left.

They were  _ very _ close to the settlement. Geralt was surprised there had only been sightings and not any deaths.

Jaskier had once told him that he was so well practiced with his lute that he didn’t even have to think about his finger placement or what note followed the previous one. Muscle memory he called.

That sounded about right.

Geralt thoughtlessly swung his blade and cut the first ghoul in half. If asked how he dispatched the other seven ghouls well,  _ muscle memory. _

He didn’t even harvest their blood and instead lit their nest up with igni and made for the stables. The witcher didn’t much care for the itch and unease the damned forest and odd inn patrons instilled in. 

Geralt collected his coin from the stable master that hired him and headed over to Roach. He brushed her and tacked her up in record time. All they needed to do was tie her saddlebags and get out of there.

The witcher sighed in relief when he unlocked the door to their room and found his songbird just as he left him. He strode over to the bed and ran his fingers through his bard’s hair. Jaskier still slightly smelt of nervousness and it grated on Geralt’s nerves.

His songbird should feel _ safe _ .

“Kier,” Geralt urged, “We need to get moving.”

Jaskier whined and rolled over, “I don’t wanna.”

The witcher pulled the blankets off his lover with a sigh and physically sat him up, “Remember the barmaids yesterday? You wanted to leave, remember? Let’s go.”

Suddenly hazy blue eyes were wide open and Jaskier was up, “They were weird.”

“You’ll think them worse than that in a moment.” Geralt mumbled as he buttoned his songbird’s shirt.

“What?” Jaskier asked as he tied his breeches. 

“They’re fucking.” 

“All five of them?”

“No. ALL of them.” The witcher picked up their bags and waved the incubus on, “You’ll see.”

“Oh WOW yes. All of them!” The bard exclaimed as the witcher led him toward the door. 

With Jaskier’s words, the humans' eyes all shot from their partners and pinned the incubus with crazed arousal in their eyes. They moved as one, reminiscent of a spellbound horde, toward the pair.

“AHH LET’S GO, GER-” The witcher wasted no time and scooped his songbird up before the bard even finished his sentence. “Oh, my Gods! Did you see that!? They all looked right at me! What the ever-loving fuck!?”

Geralt deposited Jaskier on Roach’s saddle and tied their bags up.

“What’s wrong with all these people? They were just fucking right out in the open! And Dear Melitele, did you see that old hag that that young, lean stable hand had under him?! He could have chosen a much sexier-”

“Jaskier.” Geralt growled as he settled on the saddle behind the incubus, “I don’t think that should be your biggest concern.”

“No, I suppose not.” His songbird leaned back into Geralt’s chest with a sigh, “I don’t know what all that was about.”

“Hmm.”

“You think it was because of me?”

“I don’t know.”

“I-” Jaskier hunched his shoulders, “I didn’t do anything on purpose. I swear.”

Geralt huffed and wrapped an arm around his bard’s midsection, holding Roach’s reins with his other hand. “I believe you.”

“I don’t know what… I’ve never had something like that happen before.”

“What about your persuasion magic?”

“I mean,” Jaskier shrugged uncomfortably, “I used to be able to make people want to fuck me so I could get them to do what I want. Cloud their judgment or increase their suggestibility. Nothing like  _ that  _ though.”

Geralt nosed through his songbird’s hair. Whatever was going on was obviously not on purpose, if it was even related to Jaskier directly, and he didn’t want his incubus thinking he was upset.

“Relax.” He rumbled and nipped the gold hoop in his bard’s ear, “We’ll figure it out.”

Jaskier cuddled closer, pulling Geralt’s arm across his slim chest and hugging the witcher’s forearm while the bard’s cheek leaned against Geralt’s bicep. “Thank you, Gerry.”

The witcher stared at his precious songbird with awe as he was manhandled into position so Jaskier could octopus around his leather-clad arm. He almost missed that atrocious nickname. 

“What did you just call me?” Geralt growled.

“Hmm?” Jaskier giggled. “Whatever do you mean, Darling?”

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat as the scent of pure happiness overtook all the uncertainty and fear his beautiful canary had been wallowing in. He nosed into Jaskier’s neck and inhaled deeply.

His muscles relaxed with relief and the witcher nuzzled behind his bard’s ear. Gods, it was an addictive aroma. 

Geralt couldn’t stop the pleased rumble from rising from his chest and it only got louder as Jaskier fell asleep, still cuddled close. He guided Roach down the dirt path, mindful of his sleeping cargo, with a treacherous curve to his lips. 

...

Jaskier slept for a long time. 

The bard often dozed while they rode, but incubi need far less sleep than a human. His songbird was young and healthy, well-fed, he should not have needed to sleep all night at the inn. Nor should he have napped upwards of eight hours while they traveled. Four or five hours usually had Jaskier chipper and alert. 

Geralt was wary of finding another inn, he had a feeling that the nameless village wasn’t the sole culprit of whatever was going on with his incubus. More human interaction seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Huh. Not that different than normal, if the witcher’s experiences were anything to go by. 

Since civilization was out of the picture, Geralt led Roach off the far too well-traveled path toward Ard Carraigh and into far more familiar woods. Few ventured too close to the Blue Mountains. 

People seemed to think the whole chain was littered with bloodthirsty witchers. Rumors surrounding Kaer Morhen were dubious at best, though he was quite glad for them now. They would be safe camping near the mountains, from most humans at least.

Another hour of travel through the greenery had the sun setting, Jaskier still asleep, and Geralt wanting to make camp.

“Kier,” He jostled the bard, “Get up, we’re making camp now.”

His songbird rubbed his blue eyes and stretched out as much as he could on the saddle, Geralt kept an arm around his waist to steady him. “Making camp?”

The witcher hummed and helped the incubus off Roach.

“How long was I asleep?” Jaskier asked, still leaning into Geralt even as he stood on his own two feet. 

“All day.”

“Oh.” His bard mumbled. “That’s odd.”

Geralt hummed.

The witcher went about setting up camp, keeping Jaskier in his vision as much as possible. Geralt had their tent set up and was working on gathering wood for a fire when the incubus finally shook off his daze. He thought seeing Jaskier doing things and being more active would ease his worry but the bard’s silence and slow pace made his unease fester. 

Something was  _ wrong _ . But Geralt didn’t know what to do.

When the fire was roaring, Roach was taken care of, their bags were safe from wildlife, and the tent was ready to be slept in, Geralt tried to relax. He sat in front of the fire and opened his arms.

Jaskier dropped the stick he was using to poke the fire in favor of the witcher’s invitation and crawled into the larger man’s lap. Geralt gathered his songbird close and tried to think of what his bard does whenever the witcher is obviously distressed. 

Jaskier often hugged him and rocked them side to side, so Geralt tried to do the same. 

“What do you need?” The witcher murmured into his lover’s hair as he rocked them.

Jaskier burrowed close, “I don’t know.”

Geralt held tighter as Jaskier began trembling and sniffling.

The witcher didn’t know what to do about this. He wasn’t versed in comforting people while they cried or soothing their fears. If it was anyone else, he’d scoff and let them cry. What did it matter if some human cried?

This was  _ Jaskier _ though. 

His bright, chipper canary.

His  _ songbird _ . Crying.

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat.

“What do you need, Kier?” He felt unusually helpless as tears wet his shirt. “What can I do?”

“I- I’m wet!” Jaskier sobbed.

“Well, you’re crying.” Geralt stated, unsure of what to say. “Tears are often wet.”

That, apparently, didn’t help. His songbird’s shoulders shook harder.

“Not ...not that kind of wet,” Jaskier hiccuped and squirmed around Geralt’s lap.

The witcher wasn’t sure how many kinds of wet there were or which one the incubus could be referring to. And he was kind of panicking since Jaskier was just falling to shambles in his arms and- 

_ Oh. Sex wet. _

Now that Geralt thought about it he could also smell it, the clean earthy smell of his songbird’s slick. Which was odd since Jaskier didn’t smell the slightest bit aroused.

“Dunno.” His bard sniffled and tried to take deep breaths, “I’m hungry? But you knotted me the day before yesterday and… and I was pretty full as it was and Geralt?”

The witcher hummed.

“Can you do that thing where you nuzzle my hair and kiss my head? I’d like that.”

Geralt dropped his head and did exactly as he was asked. He kept holding and rocking them too. Jaskier seemed to like that.

“You’re getting hungry too quickly and you’re sleeping a lot more than usual.” The witcher listed and rubbed his songbird’s back with a heavy palm.

“And- and the people at that inn. Whatever’s going on affects humans.”

“Hmm. And emotional instability.”

“ _ Geralt. _ ” Jaskier whipped his head up from where it was nestled under the witcher’s chin with a scowl. “Just because I cried once from being overwhelmed doesn’t make me emotionally unstable!”

“Songbird.” Geralt drew the now fuming bard back into his chest and buried his nose behind his lover’s ear. He could smell as Jaskier went from wallowing in misery to nearly scathing with anger. “I don’t just mean right now, yesterday too. You were really nervous in the inn and then calmed down really fast. Same thing this morning. You went from fine to nervous to happy to unsure to crying and now to pissed.”

He watched the anger ebb from his bard’s blue eyes and his lip started quivering again.

“I see what you mean,” Jaskier whined and cuddled into Geralt’s chest again. “Sorry.”

“Hush, it’s not your fault. Do you know any other incubi or succubi we can talk to?”

“None that I can get into contact with quickly, I have a few friends but it would take weeks to find them, if not more.”

“What about your sire?”

“I would sooner perish than ask him for help!”

Geralt’s eyebrows jumped. “We’ll go to Kaer Morhen then.”

“The haunted witcher castle on the really big witcher mountain that is filled with witchers?” Jaskier whined.

“It’s not haunted or filled with witchers,” Geralt scoffed. “I thought you liked witchers?”

His songbird kissed his jaw, “I just like  _ you _ .” He seemed to think for a moment, “And your copious amounts of witcher come.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, “The library at Kaer Morhen has more bestiary references than anywhere on the continent. If whatever is going on with you is written in a book, we’ll find it there.”

“How many witchers are going to be there?”

“One at most.”

“Is he a nice one?”

“I think so.”

“Why?”

“He raised me.”

Jaskier slapped his arm, “I’m going to see your  _ dad _ ?!”

“He’s not my father.”

“I’m going to see your  _ Witcher Dad _ ?!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt growled.

“What?” The incubus whined, “I’m nervous! It's not every day an incubus climbed a witcher mountain to go to a haunted witcher castle to meet their witcher lover’s Witcher Dad!”

Geralt growled some more.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaskier decided that mountains were  _ fucking stupid _ .

Especially witcher mountains. They were the worst.

It was so _fucking_ _cold_ Jaskier couldn’t feel his _fucking asshole_! What the fuck!

And to make matters worse Geralt didn’t care! He was all  _ “you’re an incubus Jaskier”  _ and  _ “the cold won’t kill you Jaskier”.  _ Sweet Melitele, the brute could have some sympathy for what he was going through!

...Whatever it was. 

A frankly gargantuan gust of wind blew right under Jaskier’s numerous layers and chilled him to the bone. 

That was the  _ last straw _ . 

This stupid mountain was truly inhospitable and he would not go on like this.

“Kier, don’t fall behind.” Geralt said absentmindedly. “Jaskier?”

Confused golden eyes met angry blue ones.

“I will not be taking another step up this mountain without having some of my  _ entirely reasonable _ demands met first!” The incubus waved his finger at his witcher. “So, unless you’d be willing to leave me here to be taken by the elements you will hear my grievances!”

“Jaskier…” The witcher huffed.

“Don’t you _ ‘Jaskier’ _ me!” The bard yelled, “I’ve been patient-”

“No, you haven’t.”

“And I’ve hardly complained at all-”

“I’ve heard little other than your complaining since we crossed into snow.”

“But I’ve reached my limit, Geralt! I cannot keep traipsing up this mountain as though it’s not but a mere hill!”

“We’re almost-”

Jaskier held up a dismissive hand, “I don’t want to hear how ‘we’re almost there’” The incubus scowled, “You’ve been saying that before we even started climbing the mountain!”

The witcher rolled his eyes, “We’ve not actually done any  _ climbing _ , the trail has been fine.”

“In my _ heart _ , Geralt, I’ve been climbing this  _ whole time _ !” The bard said with conviction. 

“We’re really almost-”

“I don’t care how ‘almost there’ you think we are, Geralt!” Jaskier insisted, “I am not taking another step unless it is into a tent with ALL the furs we brought, and then I’m not leaving the tent until morning!”

“Jask-”

“AND ‘THE MORNING’ DOES NOT MEAN THE CRACK OF DAWN, GERALT!” The incubus sniffed, “Any civilized man would know morning doesn’t come for hours after the sun has begun to rise. And this may surprise you, Witcher, but I’m a civilized man!”

With a huff, Geralt started toward Jaskier with a look of irritation and the bard shuffled backward uselessly. “Hush, Bard.” And suddenly the incubus was hefted up onto a broad shoulder.

“WOW, GERALT!” Jaskier squirmed, fuming. “WHAT DO YOU EXPECT TO PROVE BY-”

“Look.” The witcher pointed just up the path, past the bend Geralt carried them around, “There’s Kaer Morhen.”

“Oh.” The bard stopped struggling and turned in Geralt’s arms to get a better look, “We’re almost there!”

The witcher scoffed and put Jaskier down, “Will you walk the rest of the way? Or would you like to camp just before the gates?”

“No need to be so snappy, Geralt.” The bard scolded, “It’s unbecoming of you.”

Geralt threw his hands up with exasperation and Jaskier left him to brood.

_ Dramatic witchers _ .

“Come, Geralt! I bet there are beds in there! And hearths! Bathes too! Gods I’d love a bath! You need a bath too, you stink. And when we are both sufficiently washed I want to be knotted. I’m a bit hungry.” The incubus scurried toward the castle with a pep in his step.

His witcher growled all the way up through the grand gates and the bard chattered happily.

“Is there anyone in there? It’s quite spooky looking isn’t it? Is your Witcher Dad home?” Jaskier made his way to the front of the castle, his head twisting and turning to get a better look at their surroundings. “It’s a bit dilapidated, I must say. Very imposing and foreboding looking though, if that’s what your witchery brethren were going for. What am I even saying,  _ of course _ that’s what your lot was going for!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt cautioned as the bard began fiddling with the grand doors.

“Is it a push or a pull, I wonder? What a story I’ll have after this: Kaer Morhen, the Home of the Witchers, and it's Verified Pull Door!” The incubus let the rings of the door go and felt around the rest of the carved wood designs, “Is there a secret lever somewhere perhaps? Or a knocker to alert your ...Witcher Butler that someone is here?”

Jaskier’s rant was cut off as the doors swung open with a groan and a squeak of the hinges. The bard stumbled back, into Geralt’s chest to make room for the entrance to open.

“Geralt. You’re here far earlier than usual.” A deep, gravelly voice boomed and Jaskier’s eyes widened.

“Vesemir.” His witcher greeted, “I- we need your help and access to the library.”

A pair of shockingly familiar golden eyes pinned Jaskier in place. 

The incubus’ breath caught in his throat. It’s the Witcher Dad. 

The man before him was very obviously Geralt’s senior. He had gray hair, styled similarly to Geralt’s though it was shorter. Wrinkles and sun damage aged his face, though his eyes were as bright and searing as though he was no older than Jaskier himself. Or Geralt, for that matter.

Basically, he looked like an old man. 

A very dangerous old man with the body language of someone who knew he was in charge, but an old man all the same. Jaskier wasn’t sure what he had envisioned his witcher’s father figure to look like, but he was surprised anyways. 

“Have I scared your… friend?” The older witcher raised an eyebrow. “He was very chatty before I opened the doors.”

_...Fucking witcher hearing. _

“This is Jaskier.” Geralt introduced him, “I’ve been traveling with him for a while and I trust him.”

“What is he?”

“An incubus.”

“Of all of you, I didn’t expect it to be you that brought a creature to our home, Geralt.” Vesemir scolded.

That pulled Jaskier out of his stunned silence.

“Excuse me?!” The bard scowled at the older witcher, “I’m no more a  _ creature  _ than you or Geralt! And I’m not very fond of being called such!”

“Shut up, Jaskier.” Geralt pulled the incubus behind him. “He’s harmless Vesemir, I wouldn’t have brought him if I wasn’t sure of that.”

“I suppose we’ll see.” Vesemir rumbled distrustfully.

“We’re going to go get settled.” Geralt said as he wrangled the flailing bard, “I’ll discuss our problem with you later.”

Jaskier continued to sputter, squirm, and hiss as he was dragged down a series of large halls. He settled enough for his witcher to release his bruising hold just in time for them to climb a very grandiose staircase.

“How very rude and uninviting of him! I don’t care for your Witcher Dad, Geralt!” The bard whined indignantly.

“What were you expecting?” Geralt scoffed and opened a door, pulling the incubus in after him. “He’s a witcher, Kier. We aren’t particularly inviting.”

“You were quite inviting, as I recall.”

“I chased you while you tried to run away, bitching about human come.”

“You stopped chasing me and became very inviting quite quickly!”

“I wanted to fuck you.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, “You did do that.” He paused, “Quite well in fact. We should do that again.”

Geralt roamed around the room, seeming very familiar with it. “You’re getting hungry much faster than usual.” 

For some reason, that hit the incubus in a very sensitive place. One that made him want to cry. Did Geralt not enjoy knotting him?

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier whispered, his lip quivering.

The witcher dropped their bags at the sound of the bard’s voice and met watery blue eyes with concerned yellow ones. The larger man crossed the room, which Jaskier belatedly realized was probably Geralt’s bedroom, and cupped his cheeks.

“You needn’t apologize.” Wavy bangs were gently brushed from his eyes with calloused fingers. “I didn’t mean anything bad. I quite like having you on my knot.”

Jaskier scoffed at Geralt’s gentle actions paired with the candid reassurance. That, at the very least, wasn’t different. The witcher’s actions would always speak louder than his words. The thought made him feel better, more secure as he leaned into Geralt and a little bit frustrated that he was so quick to tears all the time.

“There’s nothing to cry about, I’m sorry.” The bard rubbed his eyes, “I know you don’t think that. I’m just… yeah. Emotional.”

Geralt hummed. “I’ve got a bed, a hearth, and access to a bath of sorts. I believe you requested all three of those.”

“Oh!” Jaskier looked around the room, actually taking in his surroundings for the first time. 

There was a huge bed against the farthest wall and across from the door that looked dusty but promised comfort in a mattress and a mountain of furs. A stone hearth occupied the other wall with stacks of wood waiting on either side. Across from the fireplace was a wardrobe and bookcase combo that spanned the whole wall. All kinds of things from wood carvings and leather-bound books, to little pouches of what looked like dried herbs and salts.

“This is your room?” The incubus asked with wonder. He hadn’t expected it to have so much character.

Geralt hummed as he stacked wood in the hearth and lit it up with igni. “It will warm up soon. No doors leading outside, so it will heat up and keep warm easily for you.”

Jaskier smiled, Geralt’s thoughtfulness made his heart jump. “Thank you, Geralt. I like your room, it's cozy and very… comforting. It smells like you still!”

“Stay here,” The witcher said and made for the heavy wooden door, “I’ll get a tub and water to bring in here.”

The bard nodded with a slight smile and Geralt left him alone. 

He began sprucing the space up, first by shaking the furs out and putting them on the bed, and adding the ones they brought as well. Then he hung their belongings in the wardrobe and left the bag with only the dirty clothes in it. After that, he put his bath vials and pouches on the stone shelf above the hearth, just far enough away that the glass wouldn’t get hot but the soaps and oils would be pleasantly warm when he used them. 

By the time he finished, he could hear Geralt’s encumbered footsteps just beyond the room so he opened the door. The witcher carried a huge tub already two-thirds filled with water and Jaskier squawked. “Geralt! You oaf, a few trips for water wouldn't have hurt!”

The witcher huffed. “Would’ve taken longer.”

“That’s very sweet of you.” Jaskier bounced in place happily and waited for Geralt to put the tub down beside the fireplace before he jumped on his witcher and hugged him.

Geralt held him up with one hand while the other ran up his back and through his hair. “I prefer you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Happy.” His witcher inhaled with his keen nose just beneath Jaskier’s ear.

“You make me very happy, my Darling.” The incubus basked in his witcher’s touch. “Very happy indeed.”

“Good.” Geralt hummed, “The water is hot.”

“Hmmm…” Jaskier really didn’t want to be put down but a bath… “Undress me, please.” The witcher went to set him down, “No! Keep holding me!”

Geralt growled lightly. “You’re very high maintenance.”

“You should be honored. I'm allowing you to facilitate my nakedness! No whining.” The bard proclaimed and held onto the much larger man like a limpet.

Jaskier giggled as Geralt huffed and fought with the incubus’ clothes, trying to remove them with one hand and holding the bard up with the other. He was first devised of his doublet and both undershirts, the witcher used his hand and teeth to pull them over his head. 

“Halfway there!” Jaskier laughed lightly, “I wonder how you intend to rid me of my pants? Or have you met your match, Witcher?” 

Geralt pulled at his breeches from every angle he could but they wouldn’t budge with the bard’s legs wrapped around him. “You’re being difficult on purpose.” The witcher pouted and nipped the golden hoop in Jaskier’s ear. 

“What? Me? NEVER!” Jaskier snickered happily. “What- GERALT!”

The witcher flipped him upside down and the bard’s legs flailed about uselessly as Geralt pushed them up over his hips and then grabbed one of the cuffs as Jaskier’s ankle dropped into reach. 

“That’s cheating!” The bard wailed and giggled, “You're a cheater!”

“You told me to remove your clothes and not to put you down.” Geralt defended himself with a faint tilt to his lips, “I don’t recall any other rules. I won.”

Jaskier clung onto his witcher as he panted and smiled so widely it almost hurt. “I suppose you’re right. What do you want for your prize?”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully as he carried the incubus over to the tub and set him in the hot water. Jaskier groaned and stretched out happily, any leftover chill from the hike up the mountain seeped away thanks to the heat.

“Let me think on it.” The witcher murmured, “Relax. I’ll wash you.”

The bard sighed contently and let Geralt move him around as the larger man wished. Jaskier drifted absentmindedly as he was taken care of, each gentle caress from his lover kindling heat in his belly. 

Geralt touched him reverently. His witcher was never unnecessarily rough with him, but eventually, that considerate gentleness turned worshipful. Jaskier knew Geralt loved him and he knew the witcher wasn’t ready to define the emotion as such. But, sweet Meleteli, Geralt made it so painfully obvious what he was feeling.

“Come, Songbird,” Geralt whispered. His witcher pulled him to his feet and the bard stepped out of the tub and into the cotton towel Geralt held out. 

“Your turn,” Jaskier motioned for Geralt to get in the tub while the incubus dried himself.

Geralt didn't care for long bathes as the bard did, he stripped efficiently and got into the tub without ceremony. Jaskier left him to wash up on his own while the incubus raided the wardrobe for something to wear. 

Eventually, he settled on an old lace up shirt with long sleeves. The shirt was obviously Geralt’s and seldom worn, the ties gone so the garment wouldn’t close all the way. It painted quite the picture. Jaskier knew his witcher had a thing for seeing him in Geralt’s much too large clothes. Now, with nothing but a shirt that he swam in and left nothing to the imagination, Jaskier climbed onto the bed.

He laid back and sprawled out, waiting for his witcher. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Geralt said as he climbed from the tub and quickly dried himself.

Jaskier sighed and made a show of arching his back as he stretched out. “You’d better come get a closer look, wouldn't want to miss anything.”

Geralt stalked over to the bed and pulled on the bard’s ankle, dragging him to the edge of the bed until he was close enough to the witcher that the man could kiss the arch of his foot. Geralt kissed the knob of his ankle, the back of his knee, and the crease of his thigh all while caressing the length of his other leg. Jaskier sighed happily as heat curled in his groin stiffening his cock and wetting his entrance. 

“You’re right.” His witcher murmured and cupped the bard’s hips and peppered more kisses around Jaskier’s navel, across his ribs, and worked his way up to bite the sensitive spots under the incubus’ ears. 

“Right…” Jaskier whined as his nipples were tweaked and the barbells tugged, “Right about what?”

“I don’t want to miss anything.” Geralt mumbled into the sun adjoining his belly button and the bard shivered.

“Nor do I.” Jaskier pulled the witcher up to meet his lips and let his hands wander over the sharp hills and valleys of Geralt’s upper body. The bard let his mouth be devoured while he mapped out his lover’s musculature, seeking out the sensitive spots he knew were hidden among the witcher’s sharp angles. 

Jaskier nipped the underside of Geralt’s jaw and wrapped a hand around the base of the witcher’s cock, listening eagerly for the low groan the bard knew he would elicit as he stroked the swelling shaft and thumbed over the glands. He smiled against the line of Geralt’s throat as the witcher’s hips instinctively thrust into the tight ring of his fingers.

“You’re trouble,” Geralt muttered huskily as he flipped Jaskier onto his hands and knees.

The bard buried his face in the sheets as his witcher’s mouth immediately went for the source of all the slick he’d been dripping. He arched his back with a whine as his cock throbbed and his rim twitched around Geralt’s probing tongue. One of the witcher’s hands toyed with the golden barbell that pierced the delicate strip of skin between his balls and hole while the other traced up and down his spine soothingly. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier keened, “Come on, I’m so wet! I need more!”

Two thick fingers sank into him while his witcher’s tongue kept him seeing stars and he pushed back on the intrusion as his muscles fluttered. The heat that had been coiling in his belly sank deeper into his pelvis, making his canals throb with need. 

Another finger was added and Geralt kissed each knob of his spine sweetly even as his fingers fucked the bard obscenely. The juxtaposition had his blue eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re breathtaking, Little Bird.” Geralt whispered in his ear and bit the erogenous zone just behind his lobe.

“Please,” Jaskier whimpered, still rearing back onto his lover’s fingers, “I want your cock, come on!”

His witcher didn’t disappoint, his broad crown breaching the bard’s furl painstakingly slowly. Jaskier felt his entrance give way and his canals stretch to accommodate the girth steadily spreading him. The incubus whined as his prostate was brushed past, sending muted throbs of pleasure to his core.

“How’s this?” Geralt growled in his ear, his bulk still holding the smaller man down on the mattress as the witcher plowed slowly into the incubus’ heat.

Jaskier’s cock strained and dripped, though Geralt’s weight kept him from being able to reach down and touch it. The thought that he wouldn’t be able to touch his shaft while his lover sheathed his girth into him made the bard squirm and whine, unattended cock twitching.

“Please, Geralt!” He begged, “Harder! I need it! Please!” His witcher adjusted his position, forcing Jaskier to arch his ass higher, and began thrusting into the bard’s quivering canals with abandon. 

The incubus keened and fisted the sheets in his hands as Geralt fucked him. The angle had his prostate in a prime position to be dragged across with every push in and pull out of the witcher’s shaft. Jaskier could do little else but cry out as his passages were abused, again and again, his nerve endings sending tsunamis of pleasure crashing through his groin all the way to his fingertips.

The world around them fell away until all he knew was Geralt’s weight over him and his cock inside him. Eventually, even breathing was secondary to the rippling heat that was quickly pooling in his groin, just behind his shaft.

Each thrust became more and more difficult for Jaskier’s furl to accept and the incubus yelped each time he was breached until Geralt’s knot stretched his rim once more and the witcher settled into him. The knot grew and grew and Jaskier whined as his canal spasmed, trying to accommodate the immense girth grinding into his sensitive walls. 

The bard wailed as Geralt grew large enough to constantly put pressure on his prostate and the witcher took Jaskier’s cock in hand. The incubus shook apart as white, hot, blinding pleasure flooded his entire being and his canals tightened like a vice around his witcher’s knot.

Geralt groaned in his ear and worked the bard’s cock through his orgasm all while grinding his pulsing knot deeply into Jaskier’s spasming heat. Time went away as the bard twitched through aftershocks and oversensitivity from the knot still lodged in his core.

“I’m going to turn us, Songbird.” His witcher murmured breathlessly.

Jaskier just whimpered and let himself be moved. 

Once they were settled on their sides, Geralt spooned behind the bard, the witcher pulled the furs over their heaving bodies. Jaskier hadn’t realized he was cold until the blankets enveloped him and his lover with a pleasant warmth.

The incubus shut his eyes and tried to make his quivering muscles relax, basking in the throb of his witcher’s knot as it filled him with seed. He could feel the hot spend cascading through his deepest channels and the swell of his filling passages brought him an instinctive sense of pleasure. A full incubus was a happy one.

“Geralt?” Jaskier mumbled, barely coherent.

“Hmm?” His witcher hummed absently, his hips still jerking as his knot pulsed.

“One day, we should just fuck and fuck and fuck until we can’t anymore. I want to be so full of your come, it balloons my belly out to here.” Jaskier motioned with his hand.

Geralt wrapped an arm around the bard's hips, resting a big hand over the charm nestled in his navel. “That sounds enticing. Make this pretty little sun sit atop a mountain.”

Jaskier whined, “Geralt, sometimes you say the  _ best  _ things. Gods, we should do that.”

The witcher inhaled deeply, nose buried in the bard’s brunette waves. “I wonder if you’ll start to leak.”

“You’ll have to find a way to plug me up, then.” The incubus shivered through a spike of sensitivity, thinking about a day dedicated to fucking him so full his biology was overcome and his hole dripped Geralt’s come. “We need to stop talking about this. I’ll get hard again!”

“You brought it up.” His witcher sassed.

“Well, you encouraged me!” 

“Hmm. It’s a nice train of thought.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Hush now, I can smell your arousal spiking again.”

Jaskier wiggled after a few moments of silence as his witcher’s shrinking knot began losing ground inside him until it popped out. The incubus shivered and his swollen furl fluttered at the loss. 

“Sweet Meleteli, that was good.” Jaskier’s eyes shut and he stretched out happily, “I’m going to fall asleep soon.”

“I need to speak with Vesemir before I settle for the night.” Geralt sighed.

“Why?” The bard whined, his afterglow fading  _ far _ too fast.

Geralt soothingly nuzzled his hair, “I told him I would. And I want to give him time to think about all your symptoms before we meet tomorrow.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” Jaskier squirmed back, nestling closer to his lover.

“I’ll be back soon.” Geralt began rising from the furs, “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

With the warm furs tucked around him, the fire crackling across the room, and the warmth of his witcher’s come settling inside him, Jaskier was helpless to resist as his eyes drooped shut. Everything would be fine.

In the morning Geralt and Vesemir would figure out what was wrong with him and they would all fix it. All Jaskier had to do was sleep. His lover would be there when he woke. There was nothing to fuss about.

…

“I don’t understand, Geralt!” Vesemir roared. What could have possibly possessed a witcher to bring an incubus to Kaer Morhen?

The younger witcher reared around from where he was pacing and snapped, “What is there to understand? I came because something is wrong with him and I thought the best bet of figuring it out would be here!”

“He’s what? Cock-hungry and moody! That’s not anything fatal, Geralt, and you know that!” He’d thought Geralt was smarter than that.

Lambert? He’s young and rash, sure he’d do something foolish like this.

Eskel? A romantic at heart and more vulnerable after Daedrie. Vesemir wouldn’t be surprised if he fell in love with the first beauty that stuck around.

Geralt though? The eldest witcher was surprised. 

“He’s scared! He’s so fucking scared because he doesn’t know what’s going on! Wouldn’t you be too if you were in his shoes? I just want to be able to give him answers!”

Vesemir scoffed, “Geralt, always have to be the hero. Why couldn’t you take him to his Sire? Another incubus? Hell, a mage could have given you an idea of what’s wrong! What did you bring him here?!”

“Because I was scared too!” Geralt finally admitted with a growl.

_ Geralt _ had been  _ scared. _ For the _ incubus _ .

The elder witcher blinked. “You were scared. For the incubus you’re fucking.”

“We’re not just fucking, Ves.” Geralt murmured as he leaned against a wall, the fight drained out of him. “He’s… important.”

The elder witcher didn’t know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t for his best student to have developed emotions. For his prey no less. 

“He’s an incubus, Geralt.” Vesemir cautioned, “Are you sure he feels the same?”

“I-” Geralt huffed, “If you could smell his happiness and how content he is with me, you’d understand.”

“How long have you been with him?”

“...Since before last Winter.”

“ _ Geralt. _ ” Vesemir groaned, “That’s a long time, have you strayed from the Path?”

“NO!” Geralt snapped, “I hunt just as I always have but now, I have someone to return to. Someone to help me heal. He- Jaskier makes the Path far more bearable.”

Vesemir stood silently for a moment, taking in all that Geralt said. He thought of the younger witcher as a son, he wanted him to be happy. But too often happiness led to weakness which led to the death of a witcher. 

Geralt didn’t seem weak though. He looked healthy. His eyes were bright. He’d said more in the last few minutes than he usually does all Winter. For his incubus.

Vesemir had a lot to think about.

“Jaskier.” The elder witcher said. “That’s his name?”

“Yes.” Geralt pushed off the wall, looking hopefully at Vesemir.

“Jaskier is important to you.”

The younger witcher nodded.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“First his incubus traits seemed to get out of control, he was influencing the humans at an inn so much that they began fucking each other right out in the open. After that, he started being very… emotional.” Geralt ran a hand through his hair as he continued, seeming relieved that Vesemir was willing to listen. “Now he gives me whiplash with how quickly he goes from crying to laughing to pissed off.”

Vesemir hummed, “You mentioned he isn’t as easily satiated anymore?”

“No.” Geralt shook his head, “Theoretically, he could go for days having only been knotted once but now I have to knot him every day or he’ll start dripping from pure hunger without any kind of arousal.”

Vesemir wondered if it would make Geralt feel more at ease if he knew that that was a sign of a very healthy incubus. One that knew it needed more nutrition but was so used to being well satiated that their body allowed them to use energy and nutrients to excessively self-lubricate. An incubus that healthy was one in a million.

The elder witcher already had some idea what could be going on. But he wanted to do some proper research before he mentioned anything.

“I’ll look into it.” Vesemir relented, “Go be with him. Rest. We'll discuss it more in the morning.”

Geralt sighed with relief, “Thank you, Ves.”

The elder witcher nodded and waved the younger away. He wanted time alone. He had quite a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!   
> One chapter to go!  
> This one was fun, I like ranty Jaskier and softy Geralt. I hope you enjoyed reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt traced up and down his sleeping songbird’s spine lightly. Jaskier had rolled onto his side, cuddling up as close as he could to the witcher with his cheek on Geralt’s chest and an arm draped across the larger man’s ribs. The witcher had never considered himself a big snuggler until he met his bard.

Now he couldn’t imagine a more comfortable way to spend the night than curled around his slumbering canary. So he let the hours tick by, not needing any sleep since he’d meditated recently. 

He wondered what Vesemir would know, if anything, about Jaskier’s ailment. The elder witcher had come around to the prospect of Geralt caring for the incubus and still, he didn’t seem particularly concerned. But then, perhaps the symptoms weren’t as severe as he had been perceiving them to be. Maybe Jaskier was fine and the pair just got caught up in a downward spiral.

Geralt hoped that that was it, they were both just overreacting. If there was something seriously wrong with his songbird he wasn’t sure what he would do. Rather than dwelling on what-ifs, the witcher turned his attention to his sleeping bedmate.

Jaskier began squirming a little here and there which was a sign he would wake soon, Geralt knew. As the incubus slowly stirred to life, his arousal also flared and the witcher could smell the clean earthy scent of his canary’s slick. He followed the line of Jaskier’s spine down between the dimples on his back, seeking the source of his lover’s enticing aroma.

Two fingers swirled over his songbird’s wet, swollen pucker and the incubus whined sleepily, instinctively parting his thighs as his furl was teased. For a while, Geralt just played. He traced around the leaking rim, sunk shallowly into the sensitive entrance, and pulled back out, spreading around the mess of slick. When the witcher dipped further between his lover’s legs to massage and tug at the little barbel that adorned Jaskier’s perineum, his canary lived up to his namesake.

The bard whined and quaked, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep where he didn’t have coherent words but his body spoke for him. Jaskier’s cock swelled against Geralt’s hip as the incubus rutted up against the witcher and then back onto probing fingers. 

The witcher’s neglected cock filled against his belly, occasional throbbing for attention, and Geralt felt he’d been slow and patient enough. He rolled Jaskier onto his back and knelt between his legs, pulling the bard’s thighs and hips into his lap.

Blue eyes Geralt adored blinked open as Geralt rubbed his crown through the wet mess he’d made between the bard’s cheeks. Jaskier arched his back invitingly and the witcher took that as permission to push in. He watched mesmerized as his cock stretched his canary’s furl open and made space for himself in the bard’s core. 

His shaft thickened even more as Jaskier’s muscles fluttered around the intrusion and the incubus’ breath stuttered. Geralt held his songbird’s hips and set a slow pace that dragged his shaft over that bundle of nerves that could make his lover come undone.

“Gods, Geralt!” Jaskier gasped as his eyes rolled back in his head and he shuttered through each thrust. “What a way to wake up, at the mercy of the White Wolf and his engorged member!” 

Geralt hummed and moved one hand from his canary’s hips to grasp the bard’s cock, “I prefer you when you’ve been reduced to wordless whining and whimpering. Let’s get you there, shall we?”

“Ahhhhh… fuCK!” Jaskier wailed as the witcher rubbed tight circles into his frenulum with every upstroke of his fist. 

Geralt watched his bedmate fall apart in awe. His songbird’s eyes were wet with tears, his bottom lip red from biting it, and the line of his neck so deliciously on display as the canary arched with pleasure. The witcher could think of little beyond the tight heat that engulfed his cock and the throb of his knot as it swelled. But, if he could, he would have thought of how beautiful Jaskier was, coming apart beneath him. He would’ve thought of how lucky he was to have caught such a bright little canary that sang so prettily for him.

But Geralt wasn’t one for poetry and the pulsing of his knot as he squeezed it in and out of his whining lover’s glistening red entrance destroyed his mind’s higher functioning until all he knew was Jaskier’s heat around his cock. The witcher hefted his bard up and into his lap, seeking more skin contact, and groaned lowly as his knot refused to leave his songbird’s core. 

Jaskier scrambled to hang on, wrapping an arm around Geralt’s shoulders and fisting the witcher’s silver hair in his free hand. Their lips met briefly and he took pleasure in his bard’s breathless panting that made a deeper kiss difficult to maintain. Instead, he nipped the incubus’ earlobe, tugged the golden hoop there.

The witcher moved his attention lower, following the long line of Jaskier’s neck, sucking hard and leaving a blooming trail of red marks just below his lover’s ear and down to his shoulder. Part of him wanted to bite more. Harder. 

He didn’t.

Moving his attention away from the incubus' neck, he curled a hand around Jaskier’s chest and plucked the enticing barbell that decorated the pebbled bud. Geralt’s other hand fell lower and wrapped around the bard’s cock as it dripped and twitched, begging to be touched. It was then that his songbird cried out and shook violently in his arms, scratching up his back and pulling his hair as his canary trilled with pleasure. 

Geralt’s own muscles tightened and the heat in his groin expanded as his knot swelled and spilled his spend into his lover’s eager channels. The witcher gathered Jaskier close as they trembled through their orgasms, the incubus quivering with aftershocks and oversensitivity around Geralt’s knot. Each muscle spasm sent more flashes of heat through him as his bard tightened around him. 

The witcher leaned back against the bed and tucked Jaskier against him as they came down from their high. He pulled a fur over them, knowing his songbird didn’t care for the cold, especially after sex when the bard couldn’t get up and do anything about the chill. Geralt took pride in taking care of his canary’s needs before the little bird knew he even needed anything.

“I’ll never get used to the feeling of you filling me,” Jaskier mumbled into the witcher’s shoulder contently.

Geralt hummed and rubbed firm circles into his lover’s lower back, “Hurt anywhere?”

“No,” His songbird nuzzled his throat, biting the underside of his jaw gently, “I feel good. Full. Warm.”

“Good.” Geralt murmured into Jaskier’s wavy hair. The bard smelled happy. Like sunshine, vanilla, and lemongrass. No sour fear or bitter anger. Just sweet, sweet happiness. 

Sometime later, after the witcher’s knot went down and the pair were able to separate, Geralt got up. His songbird whined at the loss and blinked blearily as Geralt settled him into the furs. The witcher crossed the room, looking for a bathing rag to wet and heat with igni. He first wiped the incubus’ come off his belly and dropped a kiss on the little sun that dangled from his navel. Then, he prodded Jaskier’s thigh and the bard obediently parted his legs baring his swollen, red furl for Geralt to gently wipe clean of slick.

With his little bird sufficiently cleaned up, the witcher raised his golden eyes and met watery blue ones. “What’s wrong, Songbird?”

“I want-” He held his arms out and Geralt shuffled up the bed and wrapped his bulk around his lithe bedmate. “I’m sorry. I- I’m okay, I promise.”

Geralt furrowed his brows as concern pooling in his gut, “But you’re crying.”

“Yeah, well.” Jaskier wiped his eyes and wrapped his arms around the witcher. “You shouldn’t be so damned fucking perfect if you don’t want me to cry from emotional overload!”

“Um.”

“Fucking ‘um’ I don’t believe-” His little bird mumbled and curled in closer. I tucked the furs around him. “You wake me up with sex, rock my world, and then hold me and rub my back while I’m still stuffed full of your epic knot! And as if that isn’t enough, you warm the fucking towel before touching me with it and then clean me up like you’re worshiping me!”

Jaskier hiccups and I rub his back, assuming this is another instance of the emotional instability he’d been so prone to lately. Having a decent lover wasn’t exactly something to cry about. Even if they were ...good tears?

In any case, Geralt didn’t know what to say. So he just let his songbird keep going.

“You’re just so fucking lovely! You’re kind of an asshole with everyone else and dismissive of their emotions but then with me, you care! You get sad when I’m sad and hug me! You get super protective when I’m nervous or scared and make sure I’m okay! And you don’t let me getting angry get you angry so we don’t yell at each other! I hate it when people yell at me, Geralt.” His bard sat up a little and met his eyes, “Did you know that? That I don’t like people yelling at me?”

“No, I didn’t.” Geralt murmured, still not sure what to make of all this.

“I didn’t think you would.” Jaskier sniffled and cuddled into the witcher again. “You never yell at me so how would you know? Because you’re fucking perfect and you lo- you like me a lot!”

“I am quite fond of you.”

His little bird took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m ‘quite fond’ of you too, Geralt. Thanks for being the best lover I’ve ever had.”

Something akin to pride swelled in the witcher’s chest and he tried not to think too hard about it as he mumbled his agreement. His songbird was happy. Crying… but they were good tears. Because that’s something his canary did. Felt things so intensely that he was helpless but to express them bodily. 

Geralt would never understand. He wasn’t like that. But he would hold and comfort Jaskier anyway because well… he really was quite fond of the sunshiny bard.

…

“Come on, Kier.” Geralt urged the bard. “Can’t hide in here forever. Vesemir’s in the library.”

Jaskier whined pitifully. He was so comfortable and his deeper channels felt pleasantly full. Not stuffed, but he could almost see the slightest curve of his belly. The incubus was warm, comfy, and curled up with his lover in a safe place. Why would he want to give that up?

“I don’t want to get up.”

“We have to. Vesemir’s waiting.”

Jaskier sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed where he curled in on himself. “What if it's bad?”

He heard Geralt moving behind him, “All the more reason to go find out.” His witcher settled behind him and the bard was engulfed in his broad frame. “We have to figure out what’s wrong so we can fix it.”

The incubus leaned back into his lover. “What if it can’t be fixed?”

Geralt growled and nipped at the nape of Jaskier’s neck, “I’ll find a way.”

Jaskier had already cried once this morning because he loved his witcher so goddamned much and knew that while Geralt didn’t say it directly, the man felt the same. He really wanted to be done with the waterworks but sometimes Geralt just said stuff that stabbed Jaskier right in the feels and suddenly, the bard was fighting off tears again.

Maybe it was a good thing the witcher wasn’t particularly eloquent or open with his emotions. Jaskier didn’t know what he’d do if his witcher developed a silver tongue that had the incubus in shambles all the time.

“Come on.” Geralt prodded him off the bed. “Get dressed, no sense in waiting any longer.”

“Do you think Vesemir already knows what’s wrong?” Jaskier doubted that the elder witcher would have an answer for them in just a few hours when Geralt had had a week with the knowledge and still didn’t know. 

His witcher nodded, “He will either have an answer or know where to find the answer.”

So they dressed and headed down to the library. Geralt led the way and Jaskier followed closely, not wanting to get lost in such a huge and frankly spooky stone castle. The incubus knows that the only witchers there are his lover and his lover’s surrogate father, but instinct had Jaskier nervous that a strange rogue witcher would jump out of the shadows and attack him. 

He was basically in their lair. An incubus. Aka a dangerous demon according to most bestiaries. Gods, Jaskier suddenly had the urge to write a ballad about the rabbit that braved the wolves’ den! Wouldn’t that be marvelous!

The bard was abruptly pulled out of his musings when Geralt pushed open a heavy wooden door and the hinges squeaked terribly. This place could certainly use some TLC, did they not teach any carpentry at witcher school?

“Vesemir.” Geralt greeted the elder witcher. “Do you have anything for us?”

“Typical youth,” Vesemir snorted, “Always demanding things of their elders without any sort of manners.”

Jaskier  _ didn’t _ smile as Geralt was scolded nor did he gaze with stars in his eyes at who is probably the only man alive that could call Geralt a youth and live to tell the tale. It was a near thing though, the bard was proud of his restraint.

“Ves,” Geralt huffed and crossed his arms. His signature Witcher Stare Down apparently wasn’t particularly effective against others of his kind. “If you’re not going to help us, old man, then leave us to the books.”

“Oh don’t get your britches in a bunch.” Vesemir scoffed and waved them over to the benches he’d been sitting on. “Come here and don’t look so grim, you’re incubus will be fine.”

“He will?” Geralt perked up and followed his Witcher Dad. “You’re sure?”

Vesemir hummed and addressed Jaskier, “How old are you, boy?”

“Ahhh… fifty-six?” The incubus answered, feeling strangely panicky as the elder witcher pinned him with a stern, golden gaze.

“Hmm. Older than I thought, you're a bit of a late bloomer.” Vesemir mumbled as he shuffled through some ancient-looking books. 

“Late bloomer?” Geralt echoes sounding as confused as Jaskier felt.

“What do you know about mating calls, Jaskier?” The elder witcher asked with an air about him that told the incubus Vesemir already knew the bard’s answer.

“...Nothing?”

“Seems your sire was a piece of shit, then.” The graying man held a heavy leather-bound book out to Jaskier. “You’re fine, kid. Just young, healthy, and in the constant presence of a potential mate. You two should take some time to read this whole text, could help you in the future, but the third heading is what you’ll be needing, first.”

“So he’s, okay?” Geralt asked, seeming relieved.

The elder witcher nodded. “Right as rain, pup, from what you’ve told me. I think you’ll have much to discuss about how to proceed, but if you’re as close as you smell, you’ll probably find a pleasing solution to Jaskier’s…” The witcher trailed off and smiled, “Ailments.”

“Thank you?” The incubus said after a moment of silence. He stared blankly at the heavy text he’d been given. It was hard to believe the answers to all his problems were in a dynasty-old tome. 

He and Geralt exchanged confused looks.

Vesemir chuckled merrily. “I’ll leave you boys to it. No sex in the library, don’t need this whole floor smelling like you guys too.”

Jaskier blushed scarlet. He was still struck speechless when the heavy doors of the library boomed shut, leaving the bard and Geralt to their thoughts. Jaskier blew the dust off the cover of the book he’d been given and zero his focus onto the leatherbound text. 

_ The Lust Conundrum: Incubi _

Well. The title was very clear, at least. Its swirly lettering making it seem Official and Scientific. The bard wasn’t sure what to think. Do humans feel equally as uncomfortable about their anatomy textbooks? Would this be similar in comparison? Jaskier had never read an anatomy text. 

“-askier.” Geralt’s gruff voice penetrated the incubus’ musings.

“Hmm?” The bard shook his head, “What, Geralt?”

“You should find the section Vesemir was talking about.” His witcher waved him over to one of the benches not covered with books. They sat down side by side and Jaskier opened the book, turning pages until he found the third chapter.

_ Mating Habits _

The pair both muttered the large, swirly heading under their breath. Confusion and curiosity colored their voices. 

Jaskier wasn’t a reader unless poetry or music was involved and he couldn’t help but skim the text, skipping the intro and diving right into the meat of the chapter. He didn’t care about the history of incubi or how their nomadic nature made them more difficult to hunt. The bard was running short on patients when he finally found what he was looking for.

_ It’s nearly unheard of for incubi to form symbiotic relationships with their prey. The volume of ejaculate that is required from their prey at a frequency that ensured the incubi would be satiated is unsustainable among human males. Though, there have been recorded cases of incubi engaging in sustainable, monogamous relationships with mutants and particularly powerful wizards.  _

_ Such deviance is rare and seldom lasts long enough for the incubus to develop the level of attachment to their prey needed to instigate the incubus’ long-term mating instincts and hormonal changes. What little is known is that when an incubus chooses a single, fit and willing ‘mate’ to receive all his satiation from their chaos can overtime, twine together. This may lead to the incubus seeking a more biological bond and invoke a mating call.  _

_ A mating call is a sustained period of time where the incubus’ lust is especially potent and their persuasion abilities are perpetually in effect, trying to draw their desired mate in. Though, that is thought to be an ineffective strategy seeing as mutants are immune to an incubus’ lust and persuasion. Wizards, however, can be affected by a mating call may heed it should they have no magical protections in place. _

_ An ignored mating call causes excessive hunger, irritability, and emotional instability in an incubus. An unheeded call will eventually lead to depression and mate rejection in the incubus, spurring him to leave his desired ‘mate’ to pursue other prey. Should the incubus fornicate with anyone other than his partner, their chaos will unravel, thus ceasing the call. In extreme cases, mate rejection can lead to the death of the incubus. _

_ A well-received mating call results in both parties willfully ingesting one another’s blood while copulating, further solidifying their bond of chaos and introducing a slight soul bond. The lasting effects of becoming bonded are unknown for both predator and prey.  _

Jaskier stared dumbly at the text. Reading and rereading it, unsure of how he should feel. He loved Geralt. Geralt loved him. Answering a mating call shouldn’t be a hard decision, right? His witcher would want that with him? The incubus certainly liked the sound of being bonded to Geralt. 

And the text really explained all his symptoms, Jaskier was feeling pretty sure of the diagnosis. Though the idea of falling into a ‘depression’ or facing ‘mate rejection’ made his stomach curl. Overall, he was relieved to know what was happening to him. Would Geralt feel similarly?

“So…” Geralt started awkwardly, not quite meeting the bard’s blue eyes, “It’s your mating call. Me ...ignoring it caused this.”

“I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier blinked. 

Geralt furrowed his brows.

“Why are  _ you _ sorry?” The bard asked incredulously.

“I’ve been _ ignoring  _ your mating call.” The witcher crossed his arms, “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know you were doing anything.”

“Of course you didn’t know, mutants are immune to incubus’ magic stuff!” Jaskier frowned, “You weren’t ignoring it on purpose… wait  _ that’s  _ what you’re upset about?! Ignoring the mating call neither of us realized was even happening?!”

Geralt growled faintly, “I don’t want you to think I was rejecting it on purpose! It could be fatal if it’s ignored!”

“Geralt, it leads to a soul bond!” The bard emphasized, “A soul bond! Is that even something you want with me?”

“I…” The witcher trailed off, thinking. “Naturally occurring soul bonds aren’t harmful. They help build unity, stability, and trust between the bonded pair. They can develop naturally between humans. Parents are often soul bonded to their children. Dragons forge soul bonds with their life mates. They can’t develop unless both sides of the bond are willing.”

Jaskier silently absorbed Geralt’s words. He reeled slightly over the fact that Geralt didn’t seem adverse to the idea of forming a bond with him. The bard loved the idea of a soul bond, he loved Geralt and wanted to be as close to him as possible. Thus demonstrated by the fact he was apparently unknowingly trying to lure his witcher into mating with him. 

“You wouldn’t… mind that? With me?” Jaskier asked quietly, nervousness swirling through his belly.

“I’ve been wanting to bite you hard enough to bleed when we have sex.” 

“ _ What? _ ”

“I’ve refrained…” Calloused fingers feathered over the bruises on the incubus’ neck from their last roll between the sheets. “Slightly.”

“Oh.” The bard ran his own fingertips over the bruises, they were mostly healed already. “That’s good?”

Geralt huffed. “I wouldn’t mind a soul bond. With you. Since it’s natural.”

The witcher had never been known for his eloquence. 

“Me too.”

A bard couldn’t be expected to wax poetry _ all the time _ .

_ A soul bond, _ Jaskier thought, _huh._

They had a lot to talk about. How and when to do something so... significant. 

Jaskier couldn't help the relief that overtook him.

_ At least he wasn't pregnant or something. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.   
> He wasn't pregnant. But a soul bond and incubus mating call are pretty cool too, right? lol  
> I do plan for there to be a fic about actually solidifying the soul bond but I want that to be a separate thing.   
> I hope everyone liked it! Thanks for the comments and kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> So I've got plans for Vesemir, Jask whining, and sex in the next chapter. Woohoo!
> 
> Thanks to everyone that helped me figure out my rating confusion! 
> 
> So yeah. Thanks! Enjoy!


End file.
